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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264995">harsh lines.</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/writertyper/pseuds/writertyper'>writertyper</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, and he's perfect, i had this idea in high school and i'm going through shit right now, i just want to write star wars okay??, poe dameron is being a good friend, star wars fanfic but make it unaccurate sometimes, this is a selfish outlet, you ever just need an outlet for fun??</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-06-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 06:47:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,776</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23264995</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/writertyper/pseuds/writertyper</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>with a connection too close to break, princess ayra duska has watched poe dameron chase the clouds since she was no bigger than a gimer bush. their fates always used to seem like they were locked together, but fate likes to pull them apart whenever given the chance.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Poe Dameron/Original Character(s), Poe Dameron/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>so, when i was a senior in high school, the force awakens came out and i fell in love with poe dameron. a few months later, i crafted the character of ayra and wrote these odds and ends. through the next four years, i would keep writing odds and ends for fun with these two characters. i kept a pretty complex storyline through the course of the movies, and am just now coming out the other end and thinking "hey! maybe i should actually put something out there!" </p><p>so, let's actually write something for fun and see what we can do! this is pure entertainment and melodrama because it's a space opera and i can do what i want. </p><p>plus, it's not like i can do worse than mr. abbrams and the mouse??</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">The first time Ayra hears his name, she’s four years old. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The Royal Family of the Gordian Reach graciously offered the heroes of the Resistance to stay on palace grounds, following their victory on Endor. Pilots, leaders, and strategists alike arrived over the course of a week to the palace. The arrival of the winning X-Wings was unlike anything Ayra has seen in her four years of life, zooming through the sky at a ferocious pace and coloring the hazel sky with bright and vivid colors of the fighters.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite the wishes of her parents to stay out of everyone’s way, when the pilots and their families arrived a young Ayra stubbornly escaped into the palace gardens. She weaseled her way past her guard in true Duska family form, little legs carrying her through marble hallways and lush landscape. Little patters continued their way all the way into the familiar garden she spent hours in a day, which was alive with flowers and topiaries her father tended to in the early morning. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The gentle soul he was, the King of the Duska family tended to stay out of public eye <em>except</em> when necessary. Therefore, his newest hobby of agriculture tended to get the better part of his (and Ayra’s) day, while her mother took care of most of the issues in the actual realm of what she called politics. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ayra tiptoed to the wall of bushes keeping her from her parents. On the other side of the wall sat her family, and one of the most infamous pilots from the Resistance — a new friend of her mother. She could almost see the immaculate setting they kept, always ready to host new and old friends coming through and within the Reach, it’s many planets included equally.Ayra tried to listen to their conversation; she did her best to peak up and see any of them, but her stubby legs would do her no favors. Instead, all Ayra heard was laughter. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It perplexed her, since the thought of war had always been meant to leave heavy burden on her heart. She could still remember her mother telling her to honor those souls lost by keeping a place within herself for them. So, what was her mother and father doing from across the way? Johna, one of her classmates, always went on about how they were all gritty and unhappy people because of what they’ve had to do. She tried to listen in better to understand the light conversation, and maybe to have a few things to talk with him about once mother sent her back to the classroom. The princess nestled her small body closer to the bush. While she knew it wasn’t a very nice thing to do, Ayra couldn’t help it. All of the legends were making her wonder. She wanted to tell everyone else the <em>real</em> truth — none of the lies her classmates were saying. They spoke of families entering their lands and homes, battled and bruised. Someone said they all looked like ghosts. From the small window Ayra had, these people weren’t pale enough to be ghosts. They didn’t look dead either — and weren’t sad enough to be so. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ayra’s mother, who she could just make out, leaned forward to a dark-haired woman opposite of her. “And how’s your son doing? Poe?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The other woman, who’s name Ayra hadn’t had to learn, hummed in response. “You’re correct, your majesty.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Mother cut in. “Oh, don’t call me that, Shara.” She did that a lot, but only with people she liked. Her mother didn’t like the title sometimes, and sometimes she held the crown with such grace. Someday Ayra hoped she had friends she could do that with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Right, of course, Kashi.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> To four-year-old Ayra, hearing her own mother’s name still felt weird. She was the queen or ‘<em>mother</em>’ — not Kashi. Even her father didn’t call Mother that, or not when Ayra was around. Shara continued, “…and Poe’s doing rather well. I’m teaching him how to fly my A-Wing, which Kes doesn’t seem particularly happy about though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A grubby hand placed itself on Ayra’s shoulder, as it tugged at her. Her heart sank as she worried her guard had finally found her. The young princess lost her balance, and she began to tumble backwards while her hands reached for anything to keep her upright. Nothing came. She let out the smallest of noises as she landed on her bottom. By this point, in her terror and worry, Ayra had lost the sound of the conversation. Coupled with the scare of getting caught, her emotions ran over. Her eyes started to water, and her lip trembled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The attacker —who Ayra was just now discovering <em>wasn’t</em> her guard — noted her watery eyes and crouched down. “I’m sorry!” he whispered. One of his hands went to press over her mouth.“Please don’t cry. My mom wouldn’t be very happy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Who are you?” Ayra asked through his fingers.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The boy, with unruly curls that covered his forehead and part of his eyes, smiled. He was missing a tooth. He held out the hand he had used to keep her quiet, which Ayra knew to take and shake. The boy’s grip was heavy for someone his age, and she wanted to rub her hand when he let go to make the little pain go away, but her mother told her that wasn’t nice. So, she just pretended it didn’t hurt. He’d helped her up, and that was a nice thing to do. “I’m Poe.” The boy with a rough handshake replied. “Who are you?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ayra,” she replied, wiping her wet eyes. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As she dropped her arm back to her side, Poe seemed shocked. Even with his voice being a whisper, she could hear his excitement. “You’re <em>the princess</em>, right?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ayra nodded. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She smiled. Most of the other boys she had met, like the ones at school, were all weird and didn’t act like Poe when they found out she was the princess. They didn’t get excited about titles or really get excited about anything around her. One boy had asked if she would kill him if he pushed her. So, <em>maybe</em> Poe could be trusted around her. She held her hand out, glancing down at it while her eyes said ‘<em>take it</em>’. When Poe’s warm hand grappled on to her’s, the young Ayra smiled even bigger and started to tug him back inside. She rushed to think of different things she could show him. There were the mazes on the other side of the palace — or maybe her play room! Oh, there were so many places to go. </span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">— — </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Two moon cycles of not seeing her new friend felt like an eternity. Schooling seemed dull, her royal duties were chores, and even playtime felt like she was yawning eternally. Even after not seeing her friend for so long, Ayra’s mind was still bustling with new places in the palace she could show Poe. He had proven his worth to her tenfold through their adventure that first day, and every adventure after that day.He had even managed to help her outrun her guard two more times within the day, before they had been caught by their parents in the same garden they’d met in. It was almost six years since they’d met there, and the young boy had grown so much faster than the princess. She thought she might be taller than him at one point, but her mother was right to say he would start his growth spurt first. He was a few years older than her after all, so she guessed he’d always have that on her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As her handmaid helped her into her “special clothing”, she thought she heard the same hum of the X-Wings as she did months ago — a sign of Poe’s possible return. Rushing to the balcony windows, she saw the dark sky holding ships of various sizes and shapes. When his name surfaced down the hall, Ayra thought it was a trick of her mind. Her ears perked up and she grew antsy for the handmaid to finish dressing her. When the last bit of lacing was complete, the girl bolted out the door to find the voice who spoke her friend’s name. At the end of the hall, she spotted her mother and father talking to another man. And just behind her mother’s gown, Ayra was <em>sure</em> she saw Poe’s curls. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Forgetting about the possible scolding if she was “improper”, she ran towards the little group and skidded to a stop when she was sure it was actually Poe. A smile then erupted on her face, and she didn’t hold it any longer as Ayra nearly tackled him with a hug. “I’ve missed you!” She giggled. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The party didn’t last long, because her mother was scolding her seconds later. Ayra felt hands pull her off of the tackled boy, and back a few feet. “This <em>isn’t</em> the right time, darling.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Only then did she look at Poe — who clambered back to his feet. His eyes were cast down to the ground; his fancy attire wasn’t what she had seen him in last time. He told her he hated wearing fancy clothing. His curls were pushed back into something more manageable, but still looked too messy. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He wouldn’t look at her. Why wouldn’t her friend look at her? “Poe?” She tried. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He finally lifted his head. Ayra’s gasp echoed in the hall when she saw his eyes watering and the trembling frown. She went to console him, like her mother did when she comforted her father, but her father’s hand on her shoulder kept the young princess from moving. “Are you okay?” She pressed. “Should we find your mother?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She chose the wrong question, Ayra quickly learned. He ducked his head to hide in his father’s trouser fabric. Ayra glanced up to her mother and then to her father, and then to Poe’s father. What had she done wrong? </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her mother bent down, almost eye level with the young Ayra.“Why don’t we leave Poe and his father for now?” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Okay,” Ayra knew she sounded uneasy, which is when Kashi took in her daughter’s pout, and hefted a sigh.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can talk to him later.” She grabbed Ayra’s hand while reassuring her daughter, and bid the Dameron family a goodbye for now, leaving the king with them to show them around. As the two women walked back down the hall, Kashi put on a serious face so Ayra knew she didn’t mean anything good by her following words. Her voice fell decibels, so only her daughter would hear her. “Poe’s going through a loss right now, along with his father. I thought I told you his mother passed on.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">— — —</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ayra learned the hard way as she grew up that being a princess wasn’t the best thing in the world, like she had somehow envisioned it to be. She lived wonderfully, never having to worry for a single thing, but beyond that -- what was the point? She didn’t care for holding the crown. The responsibilities she held weren’t meant for a person like her. Sitting around and doing nothing was killing her, especially when she didn’t have anything to attend to. Princesses couldn’t really have friends, even when they were adults. They could have ladies-in-waiting, but those young women didn’t seem to understand Ayra’s inability to want to rule. Her <em>real</em> companions were mainly workers around the grounds, meaning that she was often left alone and to her own devices.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> By the time the sun had risen each morning, she was up and about -- wandering through the halls while she collected her thoughts for the day. This morning, just like every morning, she was supposed to make her way down to the entrance. Visiting royals from other regions were supposed to stay for the next few weeks while they worked on a treaty with mother, who just wanted this to be over with. Like always, Mother and Father were highly persistent about Ayra being the one to go, so she knew she needed to make a good impression. They rarely ever gave her such important tasks. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Princess?” A dark voice croaked from down the hall. She glanced up from her trance on the marble below her to notice someone slumped against a pillar. Her heart began to race. Ayra rushed to them, plummeting to her knees as she tried to assess the damage. Blood continued to seep from the man’s suit. His teal hand was pushed against the wound, but the red was continuing to push itself across his body, even as her own hand went over his to add pressure. She had never been trained to help in any medical profession; it was un-princess like. “I--I don’t know what to do,” she stumbled. “Please tell me how to help you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You can’t,” he groaned, pushing himself up into more of a sitting position. The princess noticed how the wine-colored, sticky liquid had seeped onto the ground beneath them. “You have to get yourself to safety.” He breathed a shaky breath, shutting his eyes for a few seconds before opening them to peek at her. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite the rush of confusion that rushed over her, she persisted. “I won’t leave you.” She fought back. “Not until the end.” She looked him over to make sure this wasn’t a decoy or a ruse, but found nothing to show. He was dressed in Military wear, yet the only symbol she could find belonged to the Resistance. He was….he was with the Resistance.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You’re just as regal as Poe described you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Her heart, if it hadn’t already, momentarily stopped. Like her heart, her mind couldn’t properly function. Inside, she was short-circuiting and trying to put together what he had just said. Poe? As in Poe Dameron -- a boy she hadn’t seen in over six years? The same boy she had revered in every way possible. The same boy who…<em>who joined the Resistance at 18</em>.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Poe?” Ayra pushed against his wound more, but kept her gaze on the man. Maybe if she kept him talking, the bleeding would stop or someone would come along and find them, and maybe help. “You know Poe? He talked about me?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The man coughed. “All the time.” Another cough rocked his whole body, leaving her to worry. Ayra’s hands went to press against the wound for some added pressure. “The General would bring up your planet, and he’d always be the first to bring you up.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She tried to chuckle, but the blood beginning to thicken on her hands made it hard to do. “That’s very kind of him.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another cough set him into a wave of shaking, which in return shook Ayra herself to the core. He wasn’t going to last very long at this rate. As the fit stopped, in came the wheezing. “Just relax,” she chided as kindly as she could. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “He said you were bossy too.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Ayra wanted to hear all about him, as this unnamed man had sparked an interest she thought had died long ago. But the man in front of her was more important, so she pushed through what she wanted. “Let’s not talk about him. Tell me about you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Oh, Princess.” Another cough filled the air, this one weaker than any previously. His voice was barely a whisper as he added, “It’s better that you don’t know anything about me.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She went to fight him when Ayra noticed that she could no longer feel the rise and fall of his chest. In a panic, the princess peeled her hands from the wound, and hovered her hand over his mouth to check for any breathing. <em>Nothing</em>. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The blood had spread across the floor, coming to her dress that soaked up the maroon liquid and stained the creme fabric. There was so much blood…</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As steadily as she could, Ayra stood up and tumbled back towards her room. She worked her way through the halls, clutching on to the wall for support along the way. Never in her life had she watched someone’s last breath come. The man died in her arms, and she couldn’t even help him. What was the point of being here and being a royal if she couldn’t help people?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Ayra!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Another voice called from her from somewhere behind her, and she turned to find a ghost.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Poe?” She could hardly breathe, but she knew those eyes and curls anywhere. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He rushed down the hall as quickly as his feet could carry him, just to collect her in his arms and press her close against him as her knees buckled. He held her weight up with his own, while his heart raced. Against her ear, Ayra heard him whisper, “You’re safe.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As she pushed herself back to get a better look, the princess can’t help herself, “What’s going on?” Ayra had thought she was just going to welcome the royal guests. The red on her hands was starting to dry, along with the blood on her dress and face. There was so much; she would never be able to get it all off. And then there was everyone in the palace. What would they think when they saw her, maroon coating everything it could cling to?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Poe stared her down, waiting for his mind to come up with a solid answer to give the shaking and silent girl, who’s saying nothing and staring at her stained hands. He knows, he hate that he knows there’s so much to tell her, but he can’t keep watching her like this. Poe grabbed Ayra’s shoulder and began to guide her towards her room without a single word. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> If they’re going the wrong way, she doesn’t say anything.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As soon as he spotted the doorway into the room, he’s guiding her inside. While Poe made sure to shut and blockade the door behind them, Ayra stood motionless. She couldn’t find the will to ask why he was making such an effort. His eyes scan and scan for a washroom, but no door is appearing for him to enter into. Ayra is the one to snap out of a haze, or enter a new one, as she starts going for a bookcase. Pulling a latch, it swings open and there’s the bathroom Poe was searching for. He lets out a sigh of relief, and helps her into the area. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Fumbling hands prove to be a problem when he tries to help her out of her large gown. Normally, they’re skillful in the way they move, anywhere from a trigger to the guidance of his ship. However, Ayra’s shaking and unresponsiveness are making it difficult for him to concentrate, since the only thing he can think about is what she’s thinking. He ends up taking a few minutes to uncle the back of her dress, revealing another (simpler) layer of clothing underneath. The large dress falls off of her shoulders, and she’s left with long bloomers and a corset to cover her. The white contrasts greatly against her dark skin, and Poe wonders whether or not she’s gotten darker since the last time he saw her. There’s a good chance she’s spent too much time outside. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He snaps out of his thought, instead tending to her by guiding her towards the water that’s draining from her morning bath. “Give me your arm.” </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She does so, and he gently grips it while finding a towel to soak and begin washing her with. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The entire process is silent, the only noise coming from the water splashing and a little humming from the pilot to fill the air. He almost wants to feel relaxed after awhile, but it hits him squarely that it’s most likely just the adrenaline come-down. “Princess, I have—”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> A large bang from the main room makes him stop, and as his eyes move to the doorway to her quarters, he finds a small group of guards waiting. It’s only after he has his shooter on them that he takes them in; their eyes are swimming as they take everything in themselves. The blood, the nearly comatose royalty, and the strange man washing her off. “I swear,” he starts as he holds his hands up. “It’s not what it looks like.”</span>
</p><p class="p3">
  <span class="s1">——</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> One of the last times Ayra hears Poe’s name from her parents lips is when they’re spitting it back in Ayra’s face. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Only a week after the incident in her bathing chambers, Ayra could not stand to look at herself when she knew she had watched a soul die in front of her and done nothing. She had managed to hold a place of power, and still watched everything slip between her fingers. When the soliders caught sight of Poe and her, everything began to spiral even further out of control in regards to her life and place in the castle. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She could see panic on his face, even now in remembrance, as he dropped the washrag and looked between where the soldiers stood and then back at Ayra who looked as though she was a cold and hardened statue. Even when he did his best to explain the situation to her family minutes later, rushed and holding back the full extent of his emotions, his words still fell on deaf ears. For neither her mother nor father wanted a real explanation that would somehow foreshadow a problem with the First Order. Ayra remembered how bitter and angry he sounded when he knew they would stay compliant. He stood at his X-Wing, and could hardly contain himself in the knowledge that her parents would send him away, disgracing the young man in the eyes of the kingdom — which was the same place Ayra’s parents had sworn to Shara Bey to take care of the young man. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He had promised her, this wasn’t it. He’d see her again, soon. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She didn’t believe him, even though she wanted to. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I can feel it, Ayra. We’re going to see each other soon.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then he flew off, leaving her in the kingdom with a black hole beginning to consume every part of her. How was she supposed to look at her parents, as though they hadn’t spat at her ideas and importance. More importantly, how could she live with herself for standing where she was, in a position of power, and accepting that for now there was nothing to do?</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> It took her only three days to formulate a plan. Grabbing only what she needed, Ayra packed her bag and headed out to find a ride away from the planet.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. chapter one: worries that you keep.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="p1">
  <span class="u">
    <strong>two years later.</strong>
  </span>
</p><p class="p1"><span class="s1">“Wonder where it’s going this time…” An engineer wiped the grease off her face, muttering to herself as she noted the whoosh of air behind her</span> <span class="s2">. </span> <span class="s1">From besides her, the operator laughed and glanced in the general direction of the rush. </span></p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I don’t know.” She could see the dust that collected on the ground of the base finding it’s resting place once more, slowly drifting down after the BB droid that was common with that whoosh of air was nowhere to be seen. “You better stay out of the way, though.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> The familiar orange droid whizzed through the hall of the bunkers a hundred meters away, between various conversations and gossip. It’s one job at hand — one thing that Poe asked it to do — was the only thing the droid could concentrate on. It could always ask the others in the hallway, who were doing their daily jobs around the base and following commands, to help find the former princess. However, the droid wouldn’t want to disturb them. It could find Ayra on it’s own. It would need to. And so, it pressed on until a familiar cracked door shed some light into where she might be. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> BB-8 surveyed the scene in front of it, quickly realizing it has the information it needs. Poe’s instructions for the droid seemed to be time sensitive, so BB-8 zipped away and back to the X-Wing — back to relay information the pilot could have just gotten himself. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1">Somewhere on D’Qar, in a resistance base far away from a threat of discovery, Ayra Duska was alone in her quarters, pacing. She’d been in a constant state of worry for the last forty-eight hours over her next recon mission. This happened often, normally every other mission or so. Therefore, it would be easy to assume that Ayra should have been prepared for the nausea and general anxiety. Despite being on General Organa’s good side and having help in every corner of the galaxy, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. She never could; this wasn’t irregular. On the contrary, actually. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And then there was the owner of the little BB-8 droid that worried about her every mission. He could never shake the look in his eyes — as though he might never see her again. Despite trying to hide it, Ayra could always tell. She didn’t consider it a perk of knowing the pilot for close to two decades, but it was useful knowledge in someway or another. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> As if on cue, the same man barged into the small room. His eyes instantly found the princess — although she was hard to miss. Her eyes gently went to survey Poe Dameron and his condition — the Resistance’s best pilot and a man she had known for her whole life. Despite the formality they never possessed, she still put on a mask of objectiveness around him for moments like these. How could she not? Ayra knew what was coming, and she needed to prepare herself in some way or another. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “If you’re here to stop me, then you might as well give up now.” She held her chin like any princess would — high and regal. She wanted to whine through her response and to give him a piece of her mind, but instead chose the more formal approach for a change. Her parents would have been proud of, but her etiquette teacher might be more so. (The woman had always been such a stickler on making sure Ayra didn’t let her emotions get the better of her.)</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Poe’s response came as a scoff; his hands went to rest on a cocked hip. Ayra had discovered he did that a lot when he was angry. She heard his worn boots scuff against the floor and watched as he took a step closer. He was asserting his position — not as her closest friend, but as the Resistance’s best pilot. He was going to pull rank, now? Although, he figured if she was playing the princess card, he could play as The Black Leader. “I don’t know why I thought I could stop a princess with as thick of a head as you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And I don’t know why you thought this time would be any different.” She replied in return, turning tail to look at the contents of her bag. “I have made it clear countless times that I’m doing what I can for the Resistance. This is it.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Poe exhaled through his nose as he tried not to let his anger got the best of him. Was he supposed to take offense to her response? “Excuse me?” He tried. Another step forward, and he reached out his tanned hand to wrap around her wrist. She wouldn’t even look at him, which aggravated him off to no avail. They’d known each other for so long, so the least she could do is look at him when they’re trying to have a conversation. Of course, this is them. Should he had expected anything different? Or maybe he’s the only one who’s putting effort in now; she might try and pass that off as her allegiance to the cause, too. “What do you mean by that?” He pressed. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Every time I leave, you fight me on it!” She finally broke. This was a record low for her, but there were only so many times Ayra could have the same argument with him before she would just give up. Except, that’s what he wanted her to do. He wanted her to stay here and act like a statue, just like her parents wanted her to. His eyes note how her breathing is labored and pained, boiling with rage, as he whipped her around. The princess in her was never fond of being told what to do, let alone having someone physically make her. “I am just as much of the Resistance as you are, and you never seem to understand that!”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “You weren’t supposed to be.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But how many times will I have to go on a mission before you get it past those thick curls of yours that I am <em>now</em>?” Ayra’s weight on her chest apparently kept her from breathing easily, because Poe could audibly hear her intakes and exhalation. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Despite the fact they fight about the same thing every time she gets ready to leave, Poe has no comeback to her question. He should have been working on a comeback (which he normally has for everything else) since the last time she posed the question. Poe stares her down, leaving her to meet his gaze and glare back. It didn’t need to be said, but the understanding of an impasse was obvious to both of them. He wouldn’t be able to stop her no matter what she chose, and she wouldn’t be able to stop his argument. Regardless of how many times the two of them fought, a weight still pushed itself onto her chest. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She didn’t enjoy their fighting and bickering. When they were younger, their duels made her feel like a child next to him. Poe always won those. He would hold his chin up, as if he was balancing his sass on the edge, and respond with such confidence. Ayra, as the younger, didn’t have the years of confidence she would later be raised to exude, therefore slipping her opponent the win as he ran away and off to his other (and older) friends. Now, he didn’t have older friends to run off too, and she had the confidence to fight with him for hours — which Poe couldn’t stand. Ayra considered that maybe he wasn’t used to her like this; her not being a child. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> He was sure he would begin again at any given second, and in return, Ayra gave him a cold stare that could turn anyone to ice. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Their parents had always thought they would make a good team, simply for the fact that they were so different from the other. In current terms, the general hypothesis of the entire base was that they would likely kill each other before either of them reached General Organa’s age and wisdom. Both parties looked at each other as if they dared the other to say something, but neither budged. Their fairly serious moment was nearly disrupted by Poe’s trusty droid, who wheeled itself down the hall again to stop at Ayra’s door and note the situation. BB-8 did what it had learned to do with the two, which was stay out of the way.</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> After what felt like a minute of just staring at each other, Ayra gave up. She could do this all day, yet: “I don’t have time for this,” she mumbled to herself. Poe caught the sentence, just as he managed to catch her arm. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But you have time to risk your life on a mission?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That’s the whole point.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She took his direction (for once in her life) and turned to look at him again. The roll of her eyes was exaggerated, but meant something to Poe as he felt his heart sink slightly. “The fighting,” Ayra snapped. “The constant bickering — you telling me not to go, and me going regardless. I don’t have time for <em>that</em>. Our time could be better served helping the Resistance. You know that.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> And yet, Poe didn’t want to give up, made obvious by the way he went to cut in. His mouth opened, but Ayra beat him to the punch. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And for someone who’s always toting about doing everything we can for the cause, you’re very hypocritical and controlling about my choice.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I want you to be safe; is that horrible?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “No.” She huffed. “But I can still be safe and do recon; plus, it’s not like I stop you from flying that stupid X-Wing that could get you killed any day.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “But I’m a good pilot.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “And I think I’m a pretty good spy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Once again, they found themselves at a standstill. As Ayra practically stared into Poe’s soul, he knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere. Where was this fight going to get them — just like the rest of them? Her words were always a well-sharpened sword against his own. While she was never the loudest person he knew, she was always the wittiest. She had an answer for everything, and as he remembered this for the 100th time and admired it all the same, Poe sighed. He was giving in — but he couldn’t give up completely. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m going to be your exit strategy.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She felt relief seep through her veins. “You’ll be the first one I message when I’ve got the information.” That was something she could promise with with assurance; it’s not like she’d want anyone else to be her ride back to base, anyways. There was something about seeing Poe’s familiar mop of curls and his favorite BB unit in the middle of her exhaustion, like a cool blanket in the humid summer. His soothing grin would wrap her up like nothing else in the world. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Perks of knowing the guy for so long. </span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> She glanced over to her bag once more, which was practically finished. Poe still stood in the middle of the room with her, and when her eyes flickered between him and the bag — he seemed to get the message. “You have to go soon, huh?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “I’m sorry. I really would love to bicker with you for a little while longer, but this Leia thinks this could be time sensitive.” Ayra gently moved back to the bag and threw in the last few items she figured she would need for a week or so away. “Do you have anywhere you need to be?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> Poe moved over with her, grabbing some of the items and handing them over to her to try and help pack. He scanned over her bag, just checking to make sure she had her essentials. “Not currently. You want me to walk you down to the command center?”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “That would be very kind of you.”</span>
</p><p class="p1">
  <span class="s1"> “Eh, the things I do for you.”</span>
</p>
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